White Blood ↣ T.Riddle

0, PROLOGUE

PROLOGUE • ORPHANED

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A YOUNG WOMAN RAN through the streets, her auburn hair glowing in the moonlight as it flailed behind her. No one had seen her, but if they had - if they'd looked close enough - they'd see the tears running down her face as she tried not to stumble with her tired, clumsy legs that kept tripping over stray rocks that littered the empty road. The moon cast an eerie glow over the road, lighting the way to a future she knew she couldn't have.

She stopped, gasping for breath. A heavy bundle in a silver blanket embroidered with an blue eagle, also bearing the name ADENINE, lay in her arms. If a person looked closely, they would see small arms poking out underneath, but besides that, it was just a silver bundle shimmering in the moonlight.

Her breaths were becoming slower and she leaned against a wall, before sitting down on the steps. I can't fall asleep here, she told herself. But her eyelids kept closing as if a weight was attached to the bottom of them, and soon she had drifted far away. The hands from underneath the blanket were also limp beside her, as the woman had fallen asleep before she could pick her child up once again.

The tears that had been on her face had dried, the only glimmer on her skin being that of the sweat she'd produced whilst running away from the danger. A danger herself and her husband had tried to escape, but only one had, successfully. A danger she had to protect her child from - but that was impossible now that she was asleep.

Soon, dawn came. The sky was as grey and bleak as an empty, calm sea on a rainy day. Perhaps, like the sea, behind those clouds or water or whatever substance, there was something beautiful. But below it, there could be nothing more different. Houses lined the empty street, great grey blocks of buildings that towered over the lone three-year-old girl who lay beneath a silver blanket. Even that was grey.

The air was heavy with pollution as the girl sniffed her first living breath of air that day. She sat up, her brown hair wild and coffee-coloured eyes glaring at the sun that was trying - and failing - to burst through the thick layer of clouds that seemed to be suffocating the neighbourhood. Her freckles were nowhere to be seen, possibly from the lack of sun she'd had in the winter. But where was her mother? She glanced to her right and found no one, the person who had given her a warmth other than the thermal kind gone, leaving nothing but the girl herself.

The woman had been lucky. They'd fallen asleep outside an enormous grey building, made out of stones; it was an orphanage, but it didn't look very welcoming.

The girl got up clutching her blanket and stood outside, her head bent back to get a view of the building which towered above her, with her thumb tucked firmly between her lips. The house was scary, she thought. The eyes were the windows, gaping and soulless, and there was the door, a giant mouth, ready to swallow her up.

She stumbled up the steps and tapped the door with her tiny fist; she wasn't even half the size of it, but she didn't know where her mother was and she wanted to know. The door opened and a thin, pale girl with an apron peered down at the three year old girl.

"What d'ya want?" she asked harshly. The girl took her thumb out of her mouth and stood there, wide eyed. The woman sighed angrily and picked her up, brought her into the building and slammed the door shut.

Inside, it was dark. A few gas lamps hung from the walls, casting a flickering glow over the room, and there was a Christmas tree, with gas masks for baubles and wood for leaves. She didn't like the look of this place.

"What's your name?" another woman asked.

"Georgia," the small girl replied, looking at her feet, the blanket clutched to her chest. If she sniffed it, she would smell the last dregs of her mother's sent lingering onto the silky fabric. The blanket always seemed to give off warmth, as if it were enchanted, despite it being smooth and silky.